#clothing manufacturers in alabama

[kapoor91]

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[ausetkmt]

Most history books will tell you that slavery was abolished in 1865 when Abraham Lincoln and other leaders of the anti-slavery Republican Party formed the 13th Amendment stating that “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude… shall exist within the United States of America, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” This was certainly a step in the right direction, however, it only led to a more creative way for oppressive regimes to use slavery in the States, which quite unbelievably is still going on to this day.

The American prison system is a huge business and allows many companies to use the labour (which is comprised mainly of black males) to increase their bottom line. Prison as a business is one of the largest and fastest-growing industries in the United States. As taken from- Prison Privatization: The Many Facets of a Controversial Industry:

Now prison labor based in private prisons is a multimillion-dollar industry with its own trade exhibitions, conventions, websites, and mail-order/Internet catalogs (Pelaez 2008). . . . The industry also has direct advertising campaigns, architecture companies, construction companies, investment houses on Wall Street, plumbing supply companies, food supply companies, armed security, and padded cell manufacturing, all of which rival those of any other private industry (Pelaez 2008). Furthermore, private prisoners at the state level produce a variety of goods and services, from clothing to toys to telemarketing and customer service (Erlich 2005). The private federal prison industry also produces nearly all military goods, from uniform helmet to ammunition, along with durable goods ranging from paint to office furniture (Pelaez 2008). (source)

If we look into the roots of the US prison system it become clear that it was born to continue the systematic use of slavery for profit under the guise of reform:

Prison labor has its roots in slavery. After the 1861-1865 Civil War, a system of “hiring out prisoners” was introduced in order to continue the slavery tradition. Freed slaves were charged with not carrying out their sharecropping commitments (cultivating someone else’s land in exchange for part of the harvest) or petty thievery – which were almost never proven – and were then “hired out” for cotton picking, working in mines and building railroads. From 1870 until 1910 in the state of Georgia, 88% of hired-out convicts were Black. In Alabama, 93% of “hired-out” miners were Black. In Mississippi, a huge prison farm similar to the old slave plantations replaced the system of hiring out convicts. The notorious Parchman plantation existed until 1972.(source)

This may seem like something that sits in the dark past of American history, however, this is far from the truth. Today there are still many well known corporations using modern day slavery to profit. This list of 7 companies that are profiting from modern day slavery in America was compiled by Arjun Walia from Collective Evolution:

Whole Foods

The state allows inmates to work for the profit of a private corporation, and Whole Foods is one of many companies that takes advantage, buying fish and cheese produced by prison inmates and paying them a rate of .74 cents a day. They then increase the price of the product astronomically – tilapia raised by inmates, for example, sells for $11.99 a pound at Whole Foods — and enjoy all the profits. (source)

McDonalds

It’s no secret that McDonalds is suffering right now; in a world where people are steadily waking up and moving towards a healthier lifestyle, there is no place for such heavily processed and unethical ‘food.’ Yet despite being the world’s most successful fast-food chain, they still source many of their goods from prisons, including their containers, uniforms, and cutlery. The inmates who sew the uniforms hardly make anything. (source)

Wal-Mart

Although their company policy expressly outlines that forced labor, as well as prison labour, is unacceptable, a large portion of products sold in their stores have been supplied by third-party prison labor factories. Wal-Mart purchases its products from prison farms, where workers are put through several hours of intense labor, in difficult conditions, without sunscreen, water, or food —not to mention, basically working for free. (source)

Victoria’s Secret

Undergarments and casual wear are sewn by female inmates for Victoria’s Secret. In fact, in the late 1990s 2 prisoners were placed in solitary confinement for telling journalists that they were hired to replace “Made in Honduras” garment tags with “Made in U.S.A” tags. (source)

BP

This is a surprising one. When BP spilled several million barrels of oil into the Ocean (Gulf Coast), the company sent a workforce of prison inmates — almost all of them African-American — to handle cleanup, despite there being scores of displaced coastal residents desperate for work. The move sparked considerable outrage, particularly since BP not only saved money by hiring inmates over locals, but also through the significant tax breaks they received as a result. (source)

AT&T

In 1993 the company laid off thousands of telephone operators, who were all union members, in order to increase their profits. Despite being vocally against prison labour, they went on to hire inmates to work in their call centres, paying them a mere $2 per day. (source)

Aramark

This is a company that provides food to hospitals, schools, and colleges. They also have a monopoly on food served in approximately 600 prisons. They have a history of poor food service, a problem which led to a prison riot in Kentucky in 2009. (source)

Conclusion

There are many other shocking facts about the prison system such as:

Corporate stockholders of companies which are profiting from prison labor are lobbying for increased prison sentences.

America is home to 4% of the global population, yet houses approximately 25% of its prison population.

America has the highest global incarceration rate, which is growing every year.

Almost 50% of American juveniles will be arrested before their 23rd birthday.

Each U.S. resident is paying roughly $260 per year on the prison system

This means that all this slave labour that big corporations are profiting from is paid for by the taxpayers of the United States. Thanks to Collective Evolution for putting this article together, where I sourced most of the information. Much love, Luke

[meganlarussa]

SUSTAINABLE HOLIDAY PARTY STYLE IDEAS FOR YOU

Now that the holidays are approaching, it's time to dress up for events and parties in bright, festive attire. Although it's simple to get swept up in the thrill of holiday shopping by consulting an image consultant in Birmingham, it's crucial to think about how your decisions will affect the environment. Thankfully, resale shops are promoting eco-friendly fashion sustainability, so you can look great and feel good about the environment this holiday season.

Consignment stores allow you to purchase designer goods at discounted prices while also supporting sustainable fashion by reducing the need for new manufacturing and keeping pre-owned items out of landfills. Consignment stores provide attractive and eco-friendly apparel options, which is why so many environmentally aware buyers rely on them. Consignment shopping is the best option this year if you want to be both eco-friendly and joyous

1.Stylish black dress

Nothing goes wrong with a traditional little black dress. A classic and adaptable option, the LBD may be dressed up or down for any situation. You may easily go from workwear to party clothing to a laid-back Friendsgiving atmosphere with a few simple accessory changes.

Wearing your dress with festive jewellery and gently used heels will make you look amazing for the holidays and boost your self-confidence.

2.Sequin Showstopper

A holiday wardrobe must, sequins instantly elevate any ensemble. Try a complete sequin dress for a glamorous look, or wear a sequin skirt with a cozy cashmere or knit sweater for a put-together look. Jumpsuits with sequins are also very fashionable for the winter of 2024.

Sequins aren't the most sustainable texture because they're typically composed of plastic and synthetic materials. However, if you purchase previously owned items from a resale store, you won't feel guilty about wearing sequins.

3.Velvet blazers

Velvet is a classic Christmas fabric that radiates coziness and luxury. Invest in a gorgeous velvet dress that has a striking silhouette for a festive holiday ensemble that never fails to look amazing.

Velvet blazers are a chic way to give your ensemble dimension and visual interest. Look for blazers in rich jewel tones, such as emerald green or deep crimson, for the winter. Velvet is a luxury fabric, so when it's new, it's typically pricey. However, using this luxurious material to treat your closet won't break the bank.

4.Tulle dress

Lately, one of my favorite materials is tulle. Tulle overlays and details lend a feminine touch to any ensemble, and a tulle skirt quickly transforms you into a princess. It's also more adaptable than you might imagine! A band shirt or flannel can be used to dress down or dress up a tulle skirt, depending on your style preference.

Generally, synthetic materials like rayon, polyester, or nylon are used to make tulle. Consignment stores sell tulle and other synthetic material items if you want to enjoy the beauty of tulle without feeling guilty about adding to the waste of fashion. By doing this, you may give your closet more depth and texture without using more energy-intensive production techniques to make new textiles.

5.Statement outerwear

The holiday season brings with it colder weather in several places. Adding a bold coat or jacket can completely transform your outfit for a Christmas party. Not only does outerwear keep you warm, but it also makes a smart and impressive entry at a celebration. Look for a coat with distinctive embellishments, such as faux fur trim, fine needlework, or a striking pattern or color, to add that "wow" effect.

The Conclusion

If you are looking for a personal fashion stylist in Alabama, count on Style Yourself Chic and consult Megan LaRussa, a skilled and experienced personal fashion stylist in Louisiana who is ready to offer amazing styling services to women of all ages and types. Don’t forget to check their fashion makeover virtual program.

Disclaimer- The information provided in this content is just for educational purposes and is written by a professional writer. Consult us to read more about hiring a professional wardrobe stylist.

[coolfionagreyposts]

Southern Elegance in Bulk: Wholesale Clothing Manufacturers in Alabama!

Explore the charm of Alabama fashion with our curated wholesale clothing manufacturers. Elevate your wardrobe with a touch of Southern elegance and quality craftsmanship.

[southernswampmamma]

Magic Man: Chapter 7

Original! Male Character x Original! Black Female Character

Chapter Warnings: Slow Burn, Age Gap,

Summary: Yolana Humphry spent her entire life stuck in Tapioca, Alabama, under the thumb of her controlling Aunt Freda. That is, until a stranger comes along and swoops her off her feet. A charming man, that everyone but herself seems to know; who easily bypasses her fragile walls and embeds himself in her heart. Escape, however, doesn’t seem to be the end of Yolana’s journey. With her newfound freedom, she now has the opportunity to pursue something she never thought she could obtain.

Chapter Summary: Yolana's first ride on a motorcycle went better than expected and Nathan can't wait to take her again. It seems, however, the universe has other plans.

Either this is a long one, or I read slow. Enjoy

Chapter Seven

Easier Said Than Done

Positive affirmations flowed through Yolana’s mouth as she attempted to make the puffiness around her eyes not look so bad. She didn’t mean to cry so much, but the tears kept flowing. At least she had the mind to tuck her mother’s magazine cover back under the mattress before daybreak. She didn’t have anything to conceal the swelling, but luckily, she had some Visine to rid herself of the red eyes.

She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror. Trying to put a smile on her face was hard. The smile she managed to pull was shaky and doubtful. It fell from her face easily. She looked down at the sink then back up as a last attempt to collect herself. Yolana left the bathroom to make her way out the door. When she turned from locking the front door behind her, Yolana stopped all motion. She was shook. Waiting patiently atop his massive motorcycle was Nathan. His long legs were spread on either side of the hog as his body leaned back. He was busy adjusting the black gloves that adorned his big hands.

Nathan was not a small man, so to see him fit perfectly above the gunship grey motorcycle was a wonder to Yolana. She didn’t know they manufactured bikes in such a size. How does it turn, or even stay upright? Yolana recoiled, a fresh wave of uneasiness swaying through her body. Was she really about to trust Nathan with her on that thing? Yolana remembered what he said to her. He’s never been in an accident on it before.

Nathan’s attention lifted towards Yolana. Once his eyes connected with hers, a smile lit up his face. She looked terrified and at any moment; she was going to duck away and hide. He relaxed his body even more as he waited for Yolana to move towards him. When she did, he patted the space behind him as an invitation.

“Come on Lana. You don’t want to be late for work now, do you?” Nathan teased.

The sickly look on Yolana’s face never turned, even when she approached the bike. Her features didn’t change until Nathan stood from the motorcycle to greet her. She didn’t know how, but Yolana seemed to have forgotten how big Nathan was compared to herself. So, when the 6-foot 4 mammoth of a man stood, Yolana felt small. However, a good kind of small. The kind of small that made her heart flutter. With Nathan right in front of her, Yolana got a good look at him. In the early morning light, Nathan wore a very loved black leather jacket with a simple white T-shirt underneath. A plain gold chain hung around his neck. She hadn’t seen the pants he was wearing before. They were dark jeans, like his other pants, but the fit around his hips hugged his frame just right. The boots he had on weren’t the ones she picked out. She had never seen those before, either. They were black with a zipper on the backs and just as scuffed as his old ones.

As her eyes found his features again, Yolana found he wasn’t looking back, but searching around her person before meeting her gaze. They looked into each other’s eyes, both pleased at the other’s appearance.

“Did you bring a spare set of clothes?” Nathan asked, only loud enough for the air between them.

Yolana signaled, lifting a bag for him to see. “Just a jacket, shirt, and pants.”

“That’s good. I want to take you further out, and I don’t think you would be comfortable in your scrubs.”

Yolana paused. “How far out?” She asked.

“To Bessinger. If you don’t want to, that’s ok. We can do something else.”

Yolana brought up her hands. “No! I want to go.” She thought for a minute. “What if I leave work a bit early today? So, we can take our time except for having to rush? Where are we going exactly?”

Nathan smiled. “Remember that Pop-A-Shot game?”

Yolana’s eyes intensified. The whites of them showing in full. “Nathan! You are not taking me to a bar in the middle of the afternoon just to play a rigged basketball game?” She laughed.

“Yep, yes, I am! And it’s not rigged. It is completely fair.”

“Are they even open this early?”

Nathan confirmed. “Yeah, but there’s barely anyone there until around 7:30. We’ll mostly have the place to ourselves. Are you sure you want to leave work early?”

Yolana nodded. “I haven’t taken an off day in two years. They’re practically begging me to take leisure time.”

Nathan clasped his hands together. “That’s settled then. What time should I pick you up?”

Yolana suggested 12:30.

“Sounds good.”

Nathan reached around Yolana to a compartment at the back of his motorcycle. When he opened it, a glossy white helmet sat there ready for her. He handed it to her before reaching around her again. His cologne wafted around Yolana and she tried not to breathe too deeply, afraid Nathan would notice her smelling him.

“It might be a little big, but it’ll do.”

Nathan presented a large brown leather jacket, much like his own. However, the one he gave to Yolana had been decorated with various patches and pins. Yolana studied them all. Most of them she didn’t recognize, but some looked to be landmarks Nathan might have visited. She was pleased that none of them resembled any crazy right-wing emblems that her uncle warned her to look out for. Motorcyclists always had different sorts of insignias on their riding clothes, and it always spooked Yolana.

Yolana put the helmet down to let Nathan help her inside the jacket, turning in circles to get her arms through. When the jacket was on, Yolana faced Nathan again.

“A little big?” she said, stretching her arms out to her side. The big sleeves looked like they could fit another set of arms inside, and the hem reached her mid-thigh. The jacket was nearly a dress.

“Well, you’re well covered.” Nathan snorted. “Let’s get your helmet on, then we’ll be on our merry way.”

Nathan helped Yolana with the helmet. It was an old one with a difficult clasp, so Nathan stood there, awkwardly bent over Yolana, as she looked up at him. There his cologne was again, wafting around her, embracing her in its smokey lusciousness. Yolana stared at Nathan’s focused face. His furrowed brows were where her attention landed on. They were thick with a delicate shape to them. Yolana was mesmerized by how manly they were. Even his eyelashes, though long, were manly. Yolana wanted to touch them and tell him they were pretty. Pretty and manly. That would perhaps be weird, especially for two friends.

Once he secured the clasp, Nathan moved his eyes to her own. He caught her peeking at him and smiled when she averted her gaze. He stood back to his full height.

“You ready?” Nathan asked. Yolana nodded.

He hopped over the bike and watched while Yolana clumsily climbed on behind him. He turned over the ignition, and the bike thundered to life. Yolana snapped her arms around him when the bike roared. She could tell by the sweat that was accumulating on her forehead that she was in for a nerve-ridden ride. She felt his abdomen move and wondered what Nathan was doing before she heard his deep laughter over the motorcycle engine. Not liking being laughed at, Yolana poked at Nathan’s side.

“Shut up!” She yelled.

Nathan settled down and kicked the bike off its stand and maneuvered it down the street.

Yolana wouldn’t complain too much about the ride. After a few minutes, she got used to sitting behind Nathan and enjoyed the light wind on her face and the motion of the motorcycle. It didn’t hurt that she got to wrap her arms around Nathan’s solid body the entire time. She could tell that he was indeed a fit man, but didn’t feel any prominent muscles along his stomach. Nathan was softer there, which she delighted, not finding the super jacked look appeasing. There was no need to be overly muscular and bulging everywhere. It was perfectly acceptable for men to have a little weight on them.

The turns were alarming, though. Nathan didn’t turn too sharply, but when turning in the parking lot, he went in a little deeper than she thought he would. Yolana held on to him really tight then, his shirt bunching in her fists. Nathan was in control nonetheless, and he easily coasted back upright like the turn was nothing. He patted Yolana’s thigh to calm her down, not able to say anything to her that she would hear. When he parked at the entrance, it took a minute, but Yolana unsteadily dismounted the bike with Nathan’s assistance. Yolana took the helmet off and gave it back to him. Nathan instructed her to keep the jacket before wishing her a good day and driving off.

When Yolana entered the building, she turned to go notify her supervisor that she was to be leaving early. As soon as she turned the corner, she saw Candace. She wore her hair down and was curling the end of it with her finger while reading some papers. Yolana didn’t want to talk to her, but there was no reason not to. She didn’t mention anything about her night with Nathan, and Yolana was finding it tiresome to even care so much. Candace’s eyes moved up from the papers and caught on to Yolana’s presence. She smirked and waved, which Yolana returned. Candace moved from her position, approaching Yolana. Her pretty smile was getting bigger and bigger the closer she got to Yolana.

“I saw you.” Candace teased.

“You saw me what?” Yolana asked.

“I saw you get off that motorcycle with Nathan.”

Yolana verified.

“So are y’all together or what?”

Yolana shook her head. “No, we’re just friends.” Yolana was slightly annoyed. She could only hide a little of it when answering Candace.

Candace rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to get on my nerves now, girl.” Candace huffed. “Ain’t no way y’all just friends when he just took you on a ride on his sexy ass motorcycle. After taking you out every day? Y’all practically been dating for two straight weeks.”

“He’s just being nice.” Yolana explained. How many times did she have to say this?

“You can’t tell that man likes you? Really?” Candace asked.

Yolana stood there, shocked and confused.

“Candace. Didn’t y’all sleep together?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Then why are you? What are you trying to say?”

Candace rolled her eyes again. “What I’m trying to say is what I just told you. Nathan is into you, girl. Just because we slept together don’t mean I’m trying to marry the man. I like to flirt, and I like to fuck.” Candace shrugged her shoulders. “You said y’all was just friends, so I went over and talked to him. I could tell it bothered you though, when you up and ignored my ass all damn Monday.”

Yolana was still confused, but the last part brought up some seeded guilt.

“This isn’t Sunday school, Yolana. Adults can have meaningless sex, and that’s what it was. Meaningless.” Candace paused to push Yolana’s shoulder. “What’s not meaningless is how he looks at you.”

How could she be so nonchalant about it? Yolana was sitting there with her feelings hurt while the entire thing meant nothing. Candace was right. Yolana didn’t claim Nathan and Candace made a move on a free man. Yolana got caught in her own feelings and ignored Candace. For what? She didn’t deserve that treatment.

Yolana found herself once again jealous of the woman in front of her. Candace was a confident Go Getter. She waited on no one. She got what she wanted and didn’t let the small, unimportant things upset her. If Yolana was in her shoes and slept with Nathan, she would have a fit if she saw him continue to hang out with another woman. That’s the difference between her and Candace. Candace was free. It didn’t matter to her because it was meaningless from the start.

Yolana can’t deny that Nathan’s time in Tapioca had roused something inside her that was severely vital. It means a lot to her that he spent the time to lead her through her awakening. He might not be in her life forever, but Yolana will always remember Nathan Bard as a very important person in her life.

“I say you should definitely use your time wisely. He’s not here for too long. Just use protection and plenty of lube. Don’t get me wrong, this kitty purrs,” Candace said, discreetly pointing towards her private parts. “But she had her work cut out for her.”

And so Candace was gone, and Yolana was by herself. She was just as amazed by Candace’s last statement, as she was with the entirety of the conversation. She had her work cut out for her? Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Yolana repeated over and over. It doesn’t matter what Candace had seen. Yolana and Nathan were still just friends and there would be no need for protection or lube. Yolana still found herself warm, though. She decided to move on from it, but the implication still spiked her body temperature.

The day went by quickly, and soon enough Yolana found herself on the back of Nathan’s motorcycle once again. She thought the longer ride would be uncomfortable, but she was pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable it actually was. After the initial start of the long ride, Yolana eased up on her grip around Nathan’s waist and lifted her head to look at her surroundings. The interstate was crowded, but the way Nathan drove didn’t cause Yolana much panic. He kept a respectful distance between himself and the vehicle in front of him. If there was a car that got too close to his rear, he safely merged over to let them pass. Nathan stayed in the right lane throughout the ride, not going too far above the speed limit. The best part about it was watching Nathan operate the beast of a motorcycle. Yolana wasn’t shy about asking questions when she could hear him over the traffic. She watched his hands grip the handles and flip the turn switches. When he moved, she moved to aid in his turns and even signaled for him.

Nathan repeatedly reassured Yolana by patting her thigh or rubbing her knee. He could tell when she would get a little tense. Her hold on him would tighten randomly while he drove, but by the end of it, it happened less. He loved all the questions she had for him and answered them all easily. He explained what all the dials meant and where the gas goes. Yolana did a good job getting accustomed to being his riding partner. He didn’t have to tell her to move her body with his or to not move too much. Yolana also stayed close to Nathan. Though he assumed that was because of her nerves rather than instinct. She was perfect, even better than Elijah, who wasn’t a bad passenger, but definitely not the best. All in all, the trip was good/ there was only one asshole on the road that couldn’t seem to keep their distance nor merge over to the passing lane, but a simple move to let them pass was all that was needed. Then the two were safely back in the right lane.

Soon enough, their exit was upon them, and they turned off the interstate. Pinwackers Sports Bar was only 5 more minutes off the interstate. When the two got there, Nathan happily helped Yolana off the bike and the helmet off her head. Yolana was beginning to feel that Nathan helping the helmet off was her favorite part. Even with all the wind blowing over them, his smooth cologne still stuck to him.

“You’re not going to put your helmet and stuff up?” Yolana asked when all Nathan did was hand her the extra clothes.

“It’ll be fine.”

Nathan took his hand to the small of Yolana’s back, escorting her inside the building. When she stepped in, she was met with dim lights and a faint smell of cigarettes. The place was bigger than she thought, since the outside looked so small. The bar had a simple floor plan. Booths with brown, tufted leather seats and dark wooden frames lined the walls. Square wooden tables sat in the middle in front of a makeshift stage, that was just a small area with black and white tiled flooring except for wood. It had a karaoke machine and microphone stand there, with studio lights coming from the ceiling. A single set of drums was also there, letting Yolana know that there was live music at the place. The bar was on the far wall. They decorated it to look like a garage, with a tin surrounding and a wall of decorated tools and car parts. Very manly. The rest of the walls were brick and had NASCAR and Formula 1 memorabilia scattered all over. Televisions were on all corners.

Yolana was in awe. She didn’t know it would look like that. It felt like a comfortable place to patronize.

“The bathrooms are over here.” Nathan said, drawing Yolana out of her perusal. He led her down a dark hallway where four doors were. A female and male bathroom, an employee only bathroom and an archway that had “Billiards” painted in a glow in the dark paint, over it.

Yolana entered the bathroom, very pleased that it was clean and didn’t smell. The lights were too dim for a public bathroom, but considering she was the only one in there, it was ok.

She used the bathroom and changed quickly. After washing her hands, Yolana checked her looks in the mirror. Yolana exited the restroom and found that Nathan was still in the hallway by the door. He waited for her. How sweet. Yolana shyly smiled at him, and he returned it while looking her up and down. Yolana didn’t think too much about her outfit. It wasn’t like she had many options to begin with. She simply wore a pair of high-waisted jeans that she found at the thrift shop two years ago, and a brown belt that used to be Belvin’s. She paired the jeans with a white asymmetrical tank top she tucked into the waistband. Her braids were in a high ponytail, liking the way she looked with them up versus down. Nathan liked them too. He never would have thought he would be attracted to someone’s neck, but…

Nathan led the two back to the booths, where a drink and food menu sat waiting for them. He excused himself to go talk to the co-owner, who was a buddy of his. That was no surprise to Yolana. She was barely surprised about anything concerning Nathan’s popularity. While he was gone, Yolana took in her surrounding once more. There was barely anyone in the building, just like Nathan said there would be. There was an older couple sitting at one of the tables, drinking, and a man slouched at the bar counter. He was dragging his glass back and forth on the resin top, speaking low in drunk gibberish. There were three other people towards the back, laughing loudly. It looked to be a group of college guys, but that was all Yolana could see without staring too much.

Yolana looked down at the menus on the table. It was rare for her to drink. She usually just drunk with Mrs. Henderson and that was only because the old lady would slap a drink in Yolana’s hand right as her feet crossed the threshold. She knew she wanted something to eat, however. Who knew bars had a full kitchen? Not Yolana. There were burger and fries, as well as chicken tenders and wings on the menu. Further down, she saw the bar also had tacos, salad, and pizza. Who knew bars served more than just alcohol?

“Sorry about that. I thought I would say hey before I sat down, and I’m glad I did. Free drinks!” Nathan said, tapping his drink menu on the table. Due to him being so large, Nathan had to slot his legs around Yolana’s, making room for them both. “Do you wanna drink?”

Yolana shook her head. “I’ll just take a sprite.”

Right as she spoke, an older man came to the table to take their orders. Nathan ordered a light seltzer type drink instead of his usual beer and Yolana’s sprite. Yolana guessed he chose a lighter beer because of the drive back. The waiter left and the two easily fell into their usual random conversations before the waiter returned with their drinks and to take their food orders. After he left again, they continued where they left off, which merged into another silly random conversation and settled again.

“So how was it being raised by the Fire Chief?” Nathan asked. He was nearly done with his wings, and Yolana could see him ordering another serving. “Was he as hard on you as he was on Booboo and I?”

Yolana blinked. “Oh God, no. He treated me like an Angel. He probably yelled at me twice when I was a kid,” Yolana said.

“Really? When it came to us, that’s all he did. Granted, we deserved it with all the times we got in trouble.”

“I thought y’all straightened out when y’all joined the team.”

“For the most part, yeah. Staying out of trouble is hard when you’re really good at getting into trouble.” Nathan laughed. “You probably never gotten into trouble like we did.”

Yolana shook her head. “Nope, not like y’all. I did go to a high school party once and Freda ‘bout skinned my hide.”

“Oh really? I want to hear this story.”

“Oh, it was nothing exciting like yours, but instead of going to after school Bible study, I went to a party. Freda found out, and it was so embarrassing. She showed up at the party and went through the entire house screaming until she found me.”

“Where did she find you?”

“In a room with a boy,” Yolana said sheepishly.

Nathan’s eyes bowed out of his head. “Oh, no!”

Yolana put her hands up in defense. “We weren’t doing anything bad, but he did kiss me before she got there. The next day she ratted out the girl that hosted it and I was bullied for the rest of that year.”

“Damn.”

“Yep”

“Parents are like that sometimes. It’s like they forget they were young once.”

“Or they remember they were young once.” Yolana countered.

Nathan asked about Yolana’s real parents, not pressuring her to answer if she didn’t want to. Yolana looked at Nathan over her cup. She thought about her answer before setting it down.

“I don’t know them as in relationship wise, but I know who they are.” Yolana put her hands in her lap and sat back. “I only really know my mother. I’ve never met either of them.”

“How do you know of your mother?”

“Google.” Yolana smiled. She might as well tell him the story. Nathan was leaving in a day or two and already knew of her secluded, lame existence. Might as well tell him about the crazy parts.

“Uncle Belvin let it slip a long time ago that my mother used to be a model back in the day.”

Nathan was intrigued. He stopped all movement to listen to her better.

“So, I looked up her name in Google, at the public library, by the way. I found all of her covers and photoshoots.”

“That’s got to be fucking cool.” Nathan said.

“Yeah, it was, until I found the mug shots and news articles.” Yolana let out a breath. A small pit of sadness settled in her chest. “I guess the fame and influence of others got her wrapped up in cocaine. Enough to ruin her career.”

“Do you know what happened to her after that?”

“Well, Google couldn’t help me with that, but thank God I have a very snappy aunt that never lets things go. When Freda found out I knew about my mother, it opened a dam of pressured resentment.” Yolana opened her hands to demonstrate the openings of a dam. “My mother came back to live with Freda and my grandmother. According to Aunt Freda, she didn’t know my mom was pregnant with me until three weeks after coming back.”

“My father didn’t want anything to do with my mom anymore, nor me, so he paid for her flight back down here. Freda took care of my mom and grandmother until I was born, and soon after, she kicked my mom out, taking sole custody of me.”

“Why would she kick your mom out right after she had you?”

“Well, it wasn’t immediately after I was born. It was probably 4 to 6 months afterwards. But my grandmother was ill, and she got worse. Freda said it was my mom’s fault, so she kicked her out of the house and out of her life. My grandmother died two weeks later. Freda never told me how it was my mom’s fault, but she’s adamant about it.”

Nathan didn’t know what to say. Yolana’s information added a lot to what he wanted to know about her and her crazy Aunt Freda. It was becoming clearer why Freda was how she was. Freda believed Melinda, her sister, killed or had something to do with their mother’s death.

Nathan apologized to Yolana. He was truly sorry. He was sorry that all that happened to her, and he was sorry because none of it was her fault, but she had to suffer the consequences.

“I’m not going to say that I don’t trust my aunt’s words.” Yolana was lost in her thoughts, not hearing Nathan at all. “But I feel like there is more to this story. My aunt Freda is a lot of things, but she is rarely a liar. She loves telling the truth, even when it’s harsh and unneeded, but she confuses her truth and the truth.” Yolana looked down to her plate before snapping out of her thoughts. She looked back up to Nathan, smiling.

“You know what’s funny? Freda doesn’t know I know. My mom is being housed in a rehab in Tennessee. What a coincidence.”

Nathan softly smiled. “That’s good. Do you ever want to go see her?”

Yolana shook her head. Some of her braids fell over her shoulder from the movement. “No. I read that bringing up traumatic things from the past can cause sufferers to relapse, and I don’t want that. Plus, who knows if she even wants to see me? I’m fine with knowing she is alive and ok.” It can do more harm than good if she was to visit her mother after all these years.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find her. I’ll even take you up there.” Nathan winked.

“Speaking of Tennessee. What’s it like? What about your family?”

“Oh,” Nathan fiddled with his beer can on the table. “Well, to answer your first question, Tennessee is about the same as any other southern state. It has its good parts and its bad parts. Where I live is closer to Chattanooga.”

“Is Chattanooga a good part or a bad part?”

“I would say good. We’ve got some pretty good parks down that way. I live in Milltown. Which is about 10 minutes from Chattanooga. Cheaper to live there than in other parts. The city is developing its infrastructure to work around wildlife, which I personally love. It’s not as lively as Knoxville and Nashville, but it’s still a major city and has plenty to do. As a matter of fact, there’s going to be a bull run hosted around that area. The governor is supposed to make an appearance.”

“You think he’ll participate?”

“I would love to see Bill Lee’s old ass trying to run from a bull.” Nathan laughed.

The waiter came back to check on them, and just as Yolana thought, Nathan ordered another serving of wings, and another can of his drink.

“To answer your second question. You already know I have a younger sister.”

“Catherine the favorite.”

Nathan's eyes crinkled. “Yeah, Catherine the favorite. I never really told you much about my parents, just some old stories. My mom, Remy, owns a ranch in Athens where she trains horses for movies. My dad, Lincoln, is a retired pilot who also works on the ranch, but he doesn’t really do anything. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Yolana listened on attentively. She loved it when Nathan talked about himself. For some reason, it made her feel fuller, like she knew the people he talked about and could feel the love he had for them.

 “He’s a really good pointer. If you ever need someone on base to just point you where to go but give you no other instructions, that’s my dad.” Nathan’s smile was a result of Yolana's floaty giggle.

“What does Catherine do?”

“She’s mom’s assistant.” Nathan held up to peace signs, morphing them into air quotes. “Which just means absolutely nothing.”

“I can’t lie, Nathan. That sounds a lot more exciting than life here in Tapioca.”

“I guess you could say that, but every summer I was excited as hell to come down here. If I had known you back then, I would have been double excited. You, me, and Booboo would have gotten into so much shit. I would have sneaked you out and Freda would have been so pissed.”

Yolana smiled, leaning her head to the side. She didn’t think it would have been cool smoking pot in the woods with a kindergartener, but she kept that tidbit to herself, leaving Nathan aloof to what he just said.

Nathan’s second order of wings came, and he spent no time at all finishing them as he spoke about his life and family in Tennessee. Yolana preferred Nathan to talk about himself than getting into the muddy details of her own life and encouraged him to keep going. His was much more interesting and she could listen to him for hours.

There in the back corner of the billiards room, lit with an array of colorful lights, was a Pop-A-Shot basket ball shooting game. Red LED lights flashed on the dusty screen in a clockwise pattern that it was primed and ready to take score. It looked old, but not too old, and Yolana could tell that it was well loved. It had various marks and stains on the red and black side paneling to prove it. She guessed the game got pretty rowdy when the patrons were competitive and well drunk. The net was a lot smaller than she thought it would be, and the basketballs that sat at the side, though small as well, looked bigger than they should be. It was an arcade game, after all. It was never supposed to be fair. The premise was to make money.

As the two approached the game, Nathan brought out his wallet and presented a floppy dollar. He held it up high as he began to speak.

“We’re going to keep this short and sweet. Best out of five. Winner gets something from the loser.”

“Like what?” Yolana questioned.

“Anything.” Nathan said surely. He didn’t hide his malicious intentions. He already thought about it. It seemed to Yolana. Just what was he going to ask for?

She thought for a minute, but it didn’t take her long to come up with something she wanted from Nathan. “There has to be an exception, though.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows.

“You have to stand further back.”

His eyebrows fell. “Why?”

“You’re way taller than me and you have an advantage. It would be fairer if you took a few steps back.”

Nathan contemplated her suggestion and eventually nodded, accepting her terms. They shook hands as the seal of their compromise before Nathan slipped the first dollar in the slot. Yolana stood a ways back at the billiards table to watch him play. She leaned back as Nathan took three steps away from the machine.

“Two more.” Yolana said, eventually laughing when he looked at her and rolled his eyes.

“I can’t be too far. I have to grab the balls as they come down.”

“I’ll throw them to you.” She said as she moved back up to the game.

Nathan took two more steps backwards. “OK, but no funny business.”

“Cross my heart.” Yolana said, drawing an X over her chest. Nathan smirked, noticing she marked the X on the opposite side of her heart, which he knew she did on purpose.

The game started, and the balls released towards Yolana. She kept her promise and made sure Nathan got the basketballs as they came. She never missed giving him a single one, but that’s not to say the same for Nathan. He did well, racking up a good score for being so far away, but he missed a few. Yolana knew she had a challenge on her hands, but at least she could be right in front of the machine. Nathan scored a total of 210 points after the misses. A decent score. He barely tried to not gloat when passing Yolana to put in another dollar.

“That was pretty good,” Yolana remarked.

Nathan thanked her before settling in the back on the billiards table. Yolana was nervous and didn’t want to look silly, but she reminded herself that she was playing an arcade game in a dark bar. So, she stood there as the clock reset and waited for the balls to release. When they did, she went to work trying to make them into the net. She was far shorter than Nathan and definitely didn’t have his big hands to hold the balls, but Yolana shot every shot to her best ability. Doing pretty well but falling short of Nathan’s score by 60 points.

“Oh, no,” Nathan exaggerated as he came up to her side. “I guess I won that one.”

Yolana side eyed him, brushing his hand off her shoulder. “I didn’t do too bad.”

“Oh, you did pretty good. You still lost, though.” Nathan said, matter of fact.

“Whatever. Put the dollar in.” It was a playful demand, but a competitive one all the same.

The second round, Nathan played better, racking up a higher score than his first round. Yolana as well, though she managed to beat Nathan that time with 60 over his score. That put them both at one win each. Things heated up in the third round, with Nathan speeding up his shots, causing Yolana to throw them quicker. She didn’t let him down. She got every ball to him when he needed it. He fell short of his previous score, but in the end; he won over Yolana’s score by a close 15 points. Yolana was worried they would end up going back and forth. She needed to win the next round and the round after that and not give him the opportunity to take the win.

With her goal in mind, Yolana managed to win the next round and only had one more to gain, but she had to get around Nathan first. He was cocky. They both were tied at that moment, and it didn’t take long for the smile to fall from his face. Maybe the heavens smiled down on Yolana or karma got ahold of Nathan for being so self-confident, but Nathan choked severely on the fifth round. Multiple of his shots bounced off the rim of the basket, causing him to waste a lot of the diminishing time. His score was low, lower than the others, so Yolana wouldn’t have to work too hard to pass it. But Nathan decided to play dirty the last round. Instead of sitting back behind Yolana on the billiards table, Nathan instead decided to perch himself right next to Yolana, standing really close to intimidate. Yolana knew what he was doing and overlooked him by keeping her mind on her path to win. No matter that he smelled good or looked good, or even that his hair looked so fluffy in the dim light, she was going to win.

Yolana shot every shot as good as she could, with Nathan trying to distract her. Even when he tried to make her laugh and poked at her sides, she stayed steadfast, only missing twice and overcoming Nathan’s score by an entire 120 points. When the timer went off and her score flashed in bright red dots in front of their faces, Yolana raised her hands in celebration.

“Whoo!” She hooted.

“Whatever,” Nathan said with his hands on his hips.

“Whoo, whoo, whoo!” Yolana continued, hopping around Nathan while he dismissed her.

“That was fun.” She came to a stop and batted her eyes at him. Assuming innocence like she didn’t just display poor sportsmanship by rubbing in her win.

“I’m glad you had fun.” Nathan was acting sour, but he couldn’t hold it for too long without smiling.

“You didn’t let me win, right?”

Nathan blew out a puff of air. “I wouldn’t do that. Even if my opponent is a small, weak, defenseless woman.”

“Hey, cool it!” Yolana warned.

“So, what do you want for the win?”

Yolana’s eyes squinched in mischievousness. She put her hands behind her back and stepped up to Nathan.

“I want to see your tattoo.” Yolana requested it sweetly, quietly.

Nathan didn’t expect that request. With how she approached him, he thought she was going to ask for a kiss. Something he would simply bend over and give to her, no questions asked, but he blamed that on his perverseness.

Nathan agreed, and Yolana beamed. She’d been wanting to see Nathan’s tattoo since Booboo told her he had one. To prepare, Yolana moved to the pool table, hopping onto the fuzzy green surface. She looked like a child, kicking her feet in excitement, but stilled when Nathan got close. She sandwiched her hands between her knees as he fiddled with his shirt hem.

“It’s nothing special.” Nathan said, though he slowly started to lift his shirt as if giving her a show.

Yolana watched as the white T-shirt lifted inch by inch, revealing Nathan’s body to her eyes. She thought to be wise and not stare too much at him, but that was hard to do considering he was literally showing her something on his body. So Yolana looked at him freely. Like she thought, Nathan was a perfect combination of toned and healthy. Not being too hard where she could see defined abdominals, but having some softness on him. Nathan lifted his shirt slowly and from what he presented to Yolana, she saw that except for clean dusky skin, like she presumed he had, he instead had a fair dust of dark hair across his lower stomach. As he brought the shirt further north, Yolana saw there was a peak of a matching field across his chest. From what she could tell, the hair gathered between Nathan’s pectorals and created a line that met the rest of the hair at his stomach and proceeding deep into the depths of his belt line. Yolana didn’t expect for him to have a hairy body, but she’s not mad at it. By the time he pointed at it, Yolana forgot all about the tattoo. Her brain was preoccupied with wanting to run her hands over his chest.

Nathan’s hand pointed to a spot under his left breast where a small tattoo sat. Yolana‘s eyes brightened. On Nathan’s body was a tiny version of the hands of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam. It was a shaded tattoo with no color and set in a realistic style.

“It’s cliche, I know, but I was young, and I just wanted to cover a scar.” Nathan explained, filling up the quiet air.

Yolana reached out and touched the tattoo. Tracing the outlines, she eventually found the scar he was referring to. It ran along the lines of both God’s and Adam’s fingers. In the original painting, the fingertips don’t touch, but in Nathan’s tattoo they do to cover the entirety of the scar.

“It’s done well. You must have paid a good amount for it.”

“Yeah, well, my dad paid for it. He thought I was buying books for school.”

Yolana chuckled. “How did you get the scar?”

“A year before I got the tattoo, I hopped the fence and got stuck at the top.”

Yolana cringed, sucking in air. She was still fingering the tattoos lines when she met Nathan’s eyes. He looked so deep into hers, she instantly stopped breathing as a result. He held her gaze as he stood in front of her, her knees lightly brushing against his hips. Even in the dim lights of the bar, Yolana’s skin radiated like her aura was a source of light itself. Nathan could feel the heat bouncing off of her and onto him, making his face feel warm. He was hyper focused on her features, like he never truly looked at her before. Her eyes, her nose, lips, chin, cheeks, everything. Her eyebrows, eyelashes and small blemishes. He took them all in and recorded it in his temporal lobe. Yolana could feel the weight of his stare and caved in, looking away.

“Do you want to know what I wanted if I won?” He asked.

Yolana nodded her head.

“On my last day. I wanted to spend the whole day together. You, me, and Elijah. I don’t know what we would have done yet, but we could have scooped up Booboo and Audrey at some point and did something.”

That sounded amazing. Yolana would have loved to spend a full day with everyone and maybe had dinner at the end of the night. Yolana looked at her hand, still on his body, and moved it back to her lap. Let’s say Nathan had won. She knew, and he knew as well, that Yolana wouldn’t have been able to spend their last day together. Yolana was flattered, however, that she was even amongst the people he wanted to be around on his last day in Tapioca.

“You think we could still do it? Maybe we could distract your aunt enough to sneak you out.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You keep it.” Nathan said as he pushed his leather jacket back towards Yolana. She already handed him his helmet, which he tucked back into its compartment, but the jacket he wanted her to keep.

“Why?”

“I plan on riding again tomorrow, so keep it.” Nathan said while he held his running motorcycle upright.

Yolana held the jacket to her chest as she told him OK. She turned to head back into the house. When she unlocked the door, Yolana turned back to Nathan after he beeped his horn. He waved one last time before pulling off.

There was a loud bang in the darkness that startled Yolana to open her eyes. It took a minute for them to focus as loud thumps swarmed her side. The lights cracked on, then her covers were snatched off of her body. Her eyes landed on her aunt. A calm fury covering her features.

“What’s wrong?” Fuzzy confusion clouded Yolana’s brain and speech.

“Get up.” Was all Freda said before grabbing Yolana by her arm.

It was unusual. Freda got home later than normal. All Yolana heard of her presence was a bunch of slammed doors. Then silence. She didn’t hear from her aunt for the rest of the evening, nor before she went to bed. Yolana should have known from then that a storm was brewing on the horizon.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Yolana asked frantically when Freda pulled her from her bed and pushed away.

The woman began to throw Yolana sheets viciously off the mattress, tossing the pillow too.

“You lied to me. After I nicely asked you, you lied to me anyway!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That boy, Yolana!” Freda yelled. She snatched Yolana’s pillow out of its case.

“Why are you? What are you doing?”

Freda moved back and pushed at the mattress. It didn’t move at first, but after jerking it front and back, it eventually moved from the box spring. From there, a little black box emerged, falling to the carpet, and both women froze. Freda ignored the slightly crumpled magazine that was also there. She was more interested in the little phone that laid before her. She picked it up, flipping it back and forth, before looking at Yolana. Her lips pinched. Freda lifted the phone towards her niece, shaking it accusingly.

Yolana was stuck in place, unmoving, though she felt like she was shaking. Her heart was going a mile a minute, her thoughts both still and buzzing. What was going on?

“What is this? What is this Yolana Melinda Humphrey?” Said Freda. Before Yolana could open her mouth to say anything, Freda spoke over her. “You know, I have a lot of mutuals, Yolana. I’m well respected in this town.” Freda stated. She walked slowly towards Yolana, who found herself moving backwards with every one of Freda’s steps.

“Robin. You know her? Our neighbor.” Yolana did know her. She lived next to Mrs. Henderson across the street and was never home. She was always staying at her grandchildren’s house, watching her great grandchildren. “She came home yesterday to check on things and decided to pull up her Ring camera.”

Of course, she did… of course.

Freda pulled out her phone and turned it towards Yolana.

“And guess what she saw?”

Yolana watched a video of a computer screen. It wasn’t very clear, but clear enough for her to see herself across the way, clumsily getting atop of Nathan’s motorcycle.

“That’s not all she showed me. Multiple days of you getting in and out of that boy’s truck. Completely contradicting what you told me.” Freda swiftly flicked through multiple different videos in her gallery that Robin sent her. It was so many.

Freda returned her phone to her robe pocket. “I wondered how you even stayed in touch with this man in the first place. I search your phone, so I knew there were no new numbers in there. Now I see. Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Freda,” Yolana started.

“Nope! Don’t ‘Aunt Freda’ me! I don’t want to hear anymore lies! I was so mad at you, Yolana. So mad, but I came home, and I prayed and talked to God. I prayed really hard, and I think you should thank the Lord above that he calmed me down enough not to beat your behind! But he spoke to me, and you’re done. I’ve been lenient with you, hoping you were nothing like your mother, but,” Freda shook her head. “You. Are. Done. And this phone,” Freda said, lifting the phone up to eye level. “It’s gone.”

Freda took the burner phone and slammed it on Yolana‘s desk. She took the heaviest thing that was closest and repeatedly slammed the item on top of the phone, effectively crushing it. The whole desk rattled. She hit the phone so hard that it shook Yolana’s bones.

“This is what happens when you don’t do right, when you don’t listen, when you lie! Well, I guess it runs in your genes.” Freda shrugged.

Yolana didn’t know she was crying until her vision blurred. She stared at the dead phone while her aunt looked her up and down, before stomping out of her room, slamming the door in her wake.

Friday morning, Freda didn’t go to work. She called in. Yolana didn’t know until Freda woke her up from her nap. She barely slept after her aunt left her room that night. Since her bed was trashed, she opted to sleep at her desk instead, by the corpse of her broken phone. Second morning in a row, her eyes were puffy, but that day, it was decidedly worse. She wouldn’t be able to avoid the looks.

Yolana got dressed and freshened up until it was time to go. Her heart was beating so fast, but her body was going so slow. Her head hurt and she didn’t have it in her to ask for anything for it. She refused to speak a word to Freda. She didn’t know what to do with herself after she was done, so Yolana stood in the middle of her room, clenching her bag to her body as she heard a loud engine in the distance get closer to her home. The closer it got, the faster her heart pounded until it cut off and Yolana swore she could have died with the engine. The front door opened and shut, and that’s all Yolana could bear before the tears started to flow again.

Nathan was hopping off his bike when he saw the tall figure come out of the home. He did a double take before his eyes settled on the dark, unrelenting ones of Freda Friday. Her arms were folded and almost as tight around herself as her lips were. She frowned heavily, looking grimly at Nathan. Usually, Nathan would turn on the charm like last time he spoke to Freda, but he didn’t have it in him to play around with her.

“Can you tell Yolana to come down? I don’t want her to be late for work.” Nathan said.

“Yolana is not coming down, Mr. Bard. I will be taking her to work this morning. She won’t be needing anymore rides from you.”

“Oh really? Did she say that, or did you?”

“It doesn’t matter. You can leave and not come back.”

“And if I don’t leave?” Nathan contested.

“Then I’ll call the police. Don’t worry, you should be used to getting arrested.”

Suddenly, Nathan’s left breast pocket began to ring. He took it out and saw that it was Elijah. His grandfather called him twice already, and he meant to call him back when he picked up Yolana, but he got distracted.

“That must be Elijah. I already contacted him this morning. I’m serious. I don’t want you near this house or Yolana. You’re no good for her, and she doesn’t need someone like you coming around leading her on the wrong path.” Freda said.

“Wrong path? You’re describing me like I’m some fucking demon or something.” Nathan took a few steps towards the woman.

“You might as well be. I have never been told so many lies since she has been around you!”

“She wouldn’t have to tell lies if you were someone she could tell the truth to. I’ve never met another adult that had to lie just to go down the damn street!” Nathan yelled across the driveway. He knew he was loud and would wake someone up, but he didn’t care. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, and I’m sure someone has. Yolana is a grown woman and you are her aunt, who is supposed to love and care for her. But she’s scared of you.” Nathan looked at Freda expectantly. He was hoping one of her brain cells would plug her common sense into an outlet.

Freda shrugged her shoulders. “I’m her guardian, not her best friend. She was raised on discipline.”

“That is not discipline, Freda! That’s control. And if anyone is no good for her, it ain’t me! Yolana is a wonderful girl whose potential is getting squashed because of your controlling ass attitude. If your head wasn’t so far up your own back end, you would see that!”

Freda flinched. The audacity of this boy to talk to her like that was appalling. He had known Yolana for two weeks and had the gall to speak to Freda like he knew Yolana better than she did. He was a child compared to her, and Freda refused to be talked down to by a child.

“Don’t waste your breath!”

The voice came from across the street. Nathan turned around, wondering who else wanted to run his blood pressure up. He softened when he saw a familiar old face standing at the front entrance. It was two weeks ago, but he knew the face and from his conversations with Yolana, he knew that was her friend. Mrs. Henderson.

“You can’t convince an old insecure bitch to change her ways! Psychopaths can’t think straight, anyway!”

“Juanita, mind your business!” Freda inputted.

Mrs. Henderson ignored her, keeping her attention on Nathan. “Just go home, take a nap, and clear your head!”

Mrs. Henderson withdrew back into her home. Nathan turned back to Freda, who was visibly upset, but not as much as he was.

“You should listen to her and not show your face around here again.”

Nathan looked up at Yolana‘s window. He didn’t see her, but he knew she was there. Nathan had a feeling she could see him. He had no doubt she could hear him. When he brought his attention back to Freda, he pointed at her warningly.

“You’re going to lose her… and you’re going to be really damn scared when you do.”

Nathan turned and hopped back on his motorcycle. He gave Yolana’s window one last look before peeling off and out of the neighborhood. Yolana doesn’t deserve that mistreatment. If she can’t realize that on her own, then he would show her himself.

[poojascmi]

Global Vegan Fashion Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Increasing Consumer Demand For Sustainable and Cruelty-Free Products

The global Vegan Fashion Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 451.7 Bn in 2021 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 7.1% over the forecast period 2022-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. A) Market Overview: Vegan fashion refers to clothing, footwear, and accessories that are made using materials that are free from animal products, including fur, leather, wool, and silk. The market for vegan fashion has witnessed significant growth in recent years, driven by increasing consumer awareness about the ethical and environmental concerns associated with the traditional fashion industry. Vegan fashion offers several advantages over conventional fashion, including reduced impact on animal welfare, lower carbon footprint, and a more sustainable production process. The demand for vegan fashion products is driven by consumers who are looking for alternatives to traditional fashion options that align with their ethical and eco-conscious values. B) Market key trends: One key trend in the vegan fashion market is the rising popularity of sustainable and cruelty-free materials. With increasing awareness about the environmental impact of the fashion industry, consumers are actively seeking out products that are made from sustainable and renewable materials. This trend has led to the development of innovative materials such as cork, pineapple leather, and plant-based fabrics like Tencel and Modal. For example, SUSI Studio, a key player in the vegan fashion market, offers a range of footwear made from innovative materials such as recycled plastic bottles and organic cotton. These materials not only reduce environmental impact but also provide consumers with high-quality, fashion-forward options that are comparable to traditional leather footwear. C) PEST Analysis: Political: The vegan fashion market is influenced by government regulations and policies related to animal cruelty and sustainable practices. Governments worldwide are increasingly implementing regulations to promote ethical fashion practices and ban the use of certain animal products in fashion. Economic: The economic factors driving the vegan fashion market include the growing consumer demand for sustainable and cruelty-free products, as well as the increasing availability of vegan fashion options at affordable prices. Social: The social factors influencing the vegan fashion market include changing consumer preferences for ethical and eco-friendly products, as well as the influence of celebrities and fashion influencers who promote vegan fashion and lifestyle choices. Technological: Technological advancements have played a significant role in the growth of the vegan fashion market. Innovations in materials, manufacturing processes, and design have enabled the development of high-quality vegan fashion products that rival traditional fashion options. D) Key Takeaways: - The Global Vegan Fashion Market Demand is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 7.1% over the forecast period, due to increasing consumer demand for sustainable and cruelty-free products. - Regionally, North America is expected to dominate the market, driven by a strong consumer base with a preference for ethical and sustainable fashion choices. Europe is also expected to witness significant growth in the vegan fashion market, owing to increasing awareness and government support for sustainable fashion practices. - Key players operating in the global vegan fashion market include SUSI Studio, Insecta Shoes Canada Inc., ROMBAUT, In The Soulshine, Della La LLC, Reformation, Alabama Chanin, Wawwa, Doshi FCSA, Hiareth Collective, Komodo Fashion, Brave Gentle Man, ECOALF, Rapanui, and Tact & Stone. These players are focusing on product innovation and expanding their product offerings to cater to the growing demand for vegan fashion.

[ohcanadashop]

Sweatshirts Should Be Owned By Everyone || OhCanadaShop

 A long-sleeved pullover garment made of thick, typically cotton fabric is referred to as a cool sweatshirt. The majority of the time, cool sweatshirts are worn casually, making them less formal than some sweaters. There may or may not be a hood on cool hoodies. Although more formal media still uses the word "hooded Cool sweatshirt," the term "hoodie" is now frequently used to refer to a Cool sweatshirt with a hood.

if I had to live my entire existence wearing just one piece of clothing. I think it's safe to assume that I'd go with sweatpants. I say this because. I've compiled a list of the top reasons why I believe everyone should have at least one set of sweatshirts, sweatpants shorts, fleece shorts, or whatever name you prefer to give them.

The continuous chafing and itching that the Alabama Crimson Tide football team's wool uniforms caused in 1920 got quarterback Benjamin Russell Jr. to collaborate with his father, a manufacturer, to develop a superior solution. At the period, Russell Manufacturing Company produced knit shirts and underwear for women and kids.

Knowing how long-lasting and comfortable cotton is, they modified a ladies' union suit top to make a new practice jersey out of the thick cotton that was made throughout the factory. These oversized, collarless pullovers, which were created from women's underwear and used as men's football uniforms, would later become a classic Cool sweatshirt. Russell later established the Russell Athletic Company, a new division of his factory that was exclusively dedicated to the manufacturing of Cool sweatshirts.

When American colleges started printing their names on the Cool sweatshirt in the 1960s, the sweatshirt's potential as a portable advertising tool became clear. University names on Cool sweatshirts became the go-to casual attire for showing school loyalty among both students and parents. Along with the T-shirt, the Cool hoodie offered a simple and efficient means of mass information distribution. Sweatshirts with cool slogans were an inevitable result of the 1970s T-shirt craze. Recognizing the relative ease of customization and the potency of clever graphics mixed with catchphrases, Cool sweatshirts evolved into a platform for both the wearer and the creator to express their unique personalities.

Sweatpants can be worn for exercise or for casual attire. It makes sense to wear sweatpants while working out. They are ideal for working out because the majority are made of airy materials like Cool sweatshirt fleece or french terry. With this stretchy material, you can get low like Lil Jon and rule leg day. Additionally, it aids in evaporation, which keeps your body fresh. So start working hard and working up perspiration. I suggest wearing black perspiration shorts if you perspire a lot. They conceal perspiration stains better than grey does.

The fact that sweat shorts are comfy is the main reason I wear them. Sweat shorts are typically constructed from Cool sweatshirt fabric. Typically, cotton and polyester are blended to create this cloth, making it soft and flexible. Fleece is a soft material that feels amazing against your legs. Sweat shorts are a necessity for both men and women due to the elastic waist and open fit. If you've never worn sweatpants, let me explain. Please. Give yourself a break.

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“IN 1933, state prison administrators worried what the next year would bring. At the time, profits were high—so much so that the Board of Administration, which oversaw state penal camps and prisons, reported revenue from all prison industries. In other words, the prison system not only cost taxpayers nothing but was producing profit. And yet, the Hawes-Cooper Act, passed in 1929 and set to become effective in 1934, threatened the revenue generated by women incarcerated at Wetumpka in Elmore County and other penal industries scattered throughout southern Alabama. The legislation, which banned the interstate sale of prison-made goods in states with laws against it, meant that the garments produced at Wetumpka could no longer be sold by the Lite Wear Manufacturing Company that contracted with the prison. For a time, officials and contractors resisted the incursion on their profits. Indeed, the Supreme Court case that would eventually confirm the law’s constitutionality by 1936 originated from the illegal sale of Wetumpka-made shirts in Ohio. Even after the court’s decision, however, state officials continued to run the factories to some extent, producing clothing for the nearly five thousand people incarcerated across the state.

Following the state ban on convict leasing, which took full effect by the end of the 1920s, Alabama’s Board of Administration reconfigured and centralized penal labor. Under the purview of the state, incarcerated people in Alabama labored at mills, in factories, in coal mines, on state farms, on highways, in laundries, in the prison’s tuberculosis hospital, and in guards’ and wardens’ private homes. While Black women were forced to do farm and domestic work during their incarcerations, they were also increasingly assigned to the factory at Wetumpka. Because of the various modes of profitable labor and private contracts that circumvented the ban on convict leasing, the Board of Administration urgently organized in opposition to the Hawes-Cooper Act. In the early 1930s, officials drafted a questionnaire that they circulated to other state prison administrators in hopes of galvanizing resistance to the federal policy. Other state officials similarly described their alarm at the loss of revenue. South Carolina’s superintendent, for example, reported that the enactment of the law would be “a very serious blow,” shutting down their manufacturing enterprises. West Virginia’s penitentiary warden summed up his concerns in two words: “very disastrous.” Like Alabama, South Carolina and West Virginia—among other southern states like Virginia and Tennessee—forced incarcerated Black women to work as machine operators, inspectors, cutters, loopers, sewers, and general manufacturers in prison factories.

In Alabama, the factory had been a central component of modern carceral infrastructure for at least a decade. In 1922, when Wetumpka State Penitentiary reopened as a place of reformed punishment for women, Frank Willis Barnett, a local journalist, remarked on the so-called improvements, fondly recalling the decaying prison before the “old cells [were] torn out to convert that part of the prison into a factory.” White visitors fawned over the three acres of land enclosed in twenty-five-foot walls; notably, the forced industriousness of incarcerated women enticed observers as much as the “new pickets and lattice fences, all painted snow white.” This Frankenstein marriage of bucolic and industrial fantasies coalesced into a brutal site of discipline and punishment. Factory work was grueling: it included repetitive, arthritis-inducing tasks; long hours; and the ever-present threat of the whip or solitary confinement for failing to produce a specific number of garments. Women filed into the factory at six o’clock in the morning and worked twelve hours except for an hour break at noon; some were on an all-night shift.

Although the newly reopened Wetumpka incarcerated both Black and white women—and by the 1930s men as well—more Black women were sent to the penitentiary (see Table 2). And unlike in any other state prison or penal camp, Black women outnumbered white and Black men, in large part because Wetumpka was the central prison where women were sent whereas only disabled and aged men were transferred there. Black women’s labor assignments, much like their cells, upheld racial segregation. Most Black women worked in the factory, while most white women were assigned to smaller-scale work in the tailor shop. But the fact that both white and Black women worked in fear of the whip and the guards’ barks meant that they lived in a strange new world.

These joint (albeit divergent) experiences of discipline and punishment occasionally branched into moments of interracial cooperation. In December 1923, for example, thirty-six women—twenty-five Black and three white (and eight whose names are now unreadable)—wrote to Governor William Brandon demanding that they be allowed to stay at Wetumpka rather than be transferred back to Speigner, another prison where they had faced relentless attacks from guards: “When we were in the cotton mill at Speigner there was some one cut near to death almost every day—both white and colored.” Wetumpka was not a perfect refuge from guards’ ire, but given a choice, the women vehemently opposed being sent back to the cotton mill. The letter suggested that grassroots organizing may have occurred clandestinely during work hours: the youngest Black women to sign it, some of whom were only between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, had never been to Speigner. Perhaps older Black women, like fortyseven-year-old Sarah Barnet, used their decades’ worth of experience in the prison system to convince newcomers to risk punishment and sign their names in support of collective attempts to garner more protection.

However, cooperation between Black and white women was often fleeting. Incarcerated Black women still understood that white women carried power within the prison, but Black women took opportunities to mock them. In 1929, maybe even well before it, white women complained that Black women began calling them girls, whores, and bitches. These were names that white women prized in their lexicon: daggers they could pull out as condemnations or preludes to violence against Black women whom they perceived as uppity. Girls, bitches, and whores took on a political valence—one that spoke to an alternative sociality in the prison driven by the fact that Black women were far more numerous than white women and did not work for the white women incarcerated alongside them. They could insult incarcerated white women without fear of economic retribution. But it was risky, particularly when a coalition of incarcerated white women reported what was happening to Governor Bibb Graves, calling for retribution and querulously instructing Graves to “respect [his] own race—and see that sompthin [sic] is done.”

Black women also attempted to reclaim their time from industrial sewing lines in the factory. In October 1928, for example, Bertha Lee Golden refused to work; the next day, Baby Doll Hearn did “bad work,” maybe failing to finish her quota or haphazardly stitching underwear together on purpose. In the middle of the month, Bertha Lee Golden was defiant again: if she had to sit there and work, she was going to cut up the garments so that the state could not sell them. In December, Golden came up short on the number of garments she had to make. The same day, Wellie May Gree did the same. At the turn of the new year, Ruth Brown and Mary Bawes failed to reach their quotas. Throughout 1929, 1930, and 1931, Black women refused work, messing up the clothes they were supposed to produce—some even using the factory scissors to cut up the garments. These were small-scale mutinies, hardly impinging on state-generated income. Yet it was no small feat to cut up “state property” or stand up and refuse to sew one more line in front of prison overseers. Black women’s rebelliousness was a constant protest of penal labor conditions—dissent often curtailed by the constant pressure of surveillance and violence. Brutality kept them at the cusp of open, collective rebellion.

But riots were never far off even if beatings forestalled them. In January 1931, a fire consumed the factory and several other buildings in the prison compound. Fire alarms pounded in people’s ears as guards shouted at them to march out and drove them into groups in the yard. The incarcerated men and women moved further away from the flames as the heat intensified. There was “a great clamor” as people screamed and demanded to exit the enclosure. Nearby, “a group began trying to batter a hole through a brick wall fifteen feet high.” As the fire lapped at the walls, people frantically cried for their lives. The “demeanor” among the men and women crowding outside felt “so threatening” to the guards that they “hesitated to go into the yard.” This was a riot against dying at the hands of a factory gone up in flames. 

There was precedence for garment factory disasters: the infamous Triangle Shirtwaist fire in 1911 killed over a hundred women and girls in Manhattan. But unlike that moment in which collective grieving and reckoning followed disaster, there was no union to mobilize nor dirge to sing. Instead, the fire at Wetumpka was a moment like so many others in prison: a collective wrought in violence and then caustically dispersed. But even so, for minutes or maybe an hour, incarcerated women and men battered the walls with no guards in sight. Sometime after that, Hamp Draper, a career prison bureaucrat, showed up and commanded attention, buying enough time for extra guards from twenty miles away to arrive and reimpose order and discipline. If Black women held out hope that the factory and all its bedeviling coercion was destroyed, they soon learned how quickly the state would rebuild its infrastructure to serve its own ends. If one of the women had set the fire, the relief that they hoped for in its destruction did not last very long. 

By the fall of 1931, less than a year later, Black women were back to working in the garment factory. Through sabotage and truancy, they continued to steal their time away from sewing. In October 1931, Willie Jackson tore up one of the machines. In the spring of 1932, Helen Scott left her work station. The same month, Lenora Hines stole one of the clocks from the factory. Maybe she wanted her own clock, to see if the guards were lying about the time; or perhaps she thought if she could take away the clock, overseers might not be able to count their work to the very minute.

But even when they did not destroy physical parts of the factory, Black women were irreverent in their penal work. In 1934, for instance, the warden of Wetumpka wrote to the State Board of Administration that Clara Jackson had been causing “considerable trouble . . . for sometime [sic].” In 1928, she tried to escape with Annie Davis, another Black woman who worked in the prison kitchens alongside her. After being recaptured, she had gotten into fights in the factory and had cursed and threatened guards. Despite her lengthy record of antipathy toward prison officials, a state bureaucrat at some point promoted Jackson to Class A—the state’s highest behavior classification that restored previously withheld rights, like receiving mail, to incarcerated people. Around the same time, the warden made her a “cell tender”: someone who walked the cells at night watching others. But if the administration thought that this position would somehow subdue her, they were wrong. 

Just three months before the prison-wide strike, Jackson ambled up and down the cells cursing “the warden and doctor in particular.” The night guard yelled at her until she stopped around ten o’clock. But in the morning, she began again, cursing the man who ordered their whippings and the doctor who stood by and watched. When the warden found out, he took away her job, and recorded that he “put [her] in stripes and sent [her] to the field” to work. She screamed. They were violent with her.24 Yet Jackson was determined. After being forced toward one of the roads that cut across state prison lands, she refused to walk further. Her voice testified to a pain so deep that it could not be culled nor extirpated: not by the striped uniform, not by the farmwork, not by fourteen days that they left her with only bread and water in solitary confinement. The warden later noted how she stood out on the highway, “cursing, crying, and yelling.” She screamed at a white woman whose husband was an overseer in the factory and she yelled in front of a bus full of white school children on the road. She did not need their witness but she implicated them in her pain. It was, in historian Marisa Fuentes’s words, “a different form of agency—one that [did] not expect resolution or revolution in outcome,” but was a “will to survive” and a lasting cry of refusal.”

- Micah Khater, “Riot and Reclamation: Black Women, Prison Labor, and Resistive Desires,” Southern Cultures, Volume 27, Number 3, Fall 2021, p. 54-57.

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